He Is Whole Again
by The Hoopla Bones
Summary: Slash, based off the book Coram Boy. ThomasAlex. Reading the book helps a great deal. Summary: Neither Thomas nor Alex can sleep. A Conversation (the horror!) ensues. It is Not Smutty. I am so chaste.


Notes: Slash. If you don't like it, don't read it.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jamila Gavin. I just mess up her couples.

Rating: PG

He knows where he'll find him, of course. By careful observation over the last few weeks, it's quite obvious. Alexander is where he always is these days (or nights); brooding in front of the fireplace. The fire has long since been covered, but he still stands there, full dressed, staring into the burnt-out coals and charred wood. Alexander stands with his legs slightly apart, hands clasped in front of him, his dark hair dully gleaming with reflected moonlight. The room is awash with a pale blue-grey light, the mark of the full moon shining dimly through the closed curtains. Even so, it is still very dark.

He comes down, shivering in his thin nightshirt, knowing he looks like a ghost and a fool, bare feet silent on the tiled floor. He stands behind Alexander, waiting. Finally a clock chimes midnight, and Alex starts as if from a dream. He half-turns, wrapping his arms around each other in that way Thomas has so often seen him do.

"You should be sleeping," Alex says, not meeting his eyes. He sighs.

Thomas changes the subject, thinking of his cold sheets upstairs. Alex isn't the only one who hasn't been sleeping lately. "What were you thinking of? Your eyes looked…sad," he says. Even before he speaks the words aloud, he knows it sounds incredibly stupid. But it's all he can think of.

"Melissa." Alex answers, and something inside Thomas breaks into a hundred pieces. Alex looks at him warily, noticing a definite change of feelings, then tilts his head back onto his shoulders and closes his eyes. Suddenly he opens them again and speaks. "I wish I knew if she is well. There's something important I must tell her, something really important." Thomas guesses what it is and the broken shards crack again. He feels like weeping inside.

Alexander looks at Thomas now, his eyes trusting and full of pain. Thomas relaxes under his blue gaze, so familiar, and feels he'd do anything to make that pain away, be it taking a sword for him or giving him the world. Anything. A distant hum of thought makes itself known in a corner of his mind. _Melissa Melissa Melissa, _it intones, _Except for Melissa. _

"You can tell me anything, Alex. You know that." Thomas says finally. There is a tone of reprimand in his voice. Already the newly made shards are freezing into tiny unbreakable icicles. He should accept that Alex is far away from him now, unreachable. It's ironic, really, because now class does not separate them as before and they are equals.

"Well…" Alex wavers, then decides. "I know that you know I loved her. It was so obvious…" Thomas feels his heart leap. Alex said 'loved'. Not 'loves'. A chance…? He nods, waiting for Alex to continue, holding his breath, expectation filling him. The pieces are melting, their icy cases running like water to meld together, and he is slowly becoming whole…

"There was a night." Alex falters. "One night. Before I left." Everything shatters again and the pain is so strong as he finishes: "We were—together, Thomas." He feels something falling, falling down a dark deep well inside him. It hurts it hurts oh it hurts. "And I'm worried," Alex charges on, unaware, "Worried—that there might have been a child." Thomas stares blindly. _Of course…now he means to find her and wed her. And he will love her and they will be happy, so happy…_

But that is not what Alex says next. "I have a confession to make."

Thomas finds his voice. "Wouldn't a priest suit better?"

Dryly: "You can't tell a priest of love, not properly at least,"

"What, then?"

Alex moves suddenly and takes Thomas' hands, folding them over and over in his own. Thomas, quite abruptly, realizes he can't breathe.

"Your hands are so cold." Alex says softly, searching his face. Numbly he stares back. _Yours are so warm, _he thinks. And another part of him jabbers away, _this is wrong this is wrong this is not good you will burn in Hell,_ but Alex's gentle words brush away all doubt.

He is bold. "I am past hoping now, Thomas, but this is my confession and it involves a lot of hope. Things are happening now that I do not understand, and I'm confused and I can only cling to one coherent thought: I love you. I love you, Thomas Ledbury, and I always have and always will. And my hope is very worn out, very worn out indeed, this insane hope I have that you might love me back."

Startled and happy and feeling very shocked, Thomas croaks, "Melissa?"

"Melissa was a childhood fancy I harbored once. But now there is no Melissa, there is just you and I. And I am asking you if you love me. You don't have to answer, I will hold no--no grudges," The last bit falters.

Thomas doesn't answer right away, at least not in English. He pulls Alex gently towards him and twines his hands in his thick dark hair, his lips a hair away from Alex's. Now he can smell the sweet familiar scent that is Alexander Ashbrook, all musk and warmth and cloves.

"Yes."

And he's whole again; all is bliss.


End file.
